Setting Sails (Destination Unknown, Part 1)
by GildaMulberry
Summary: Camille is getting restless and looking for alternatives to staying on Saint Marie. Begins with series 4. Camille feels she needs a new challenge - staying on Saint Marie after Richard's departure isn't a real option any more. One very important detail of TV series is altered, other details might be altered, too - this is AU. Includes references to Robert Thorogood's 2nd book.
1. Feeling Trapped

Chapter 1 – Feeling trapped

It was the end of another sunny day in the Caribbean. Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey played with the bright red straw and the little green umbrella sitting on the pineapple piece attached to the cocktail on the table in front of her. Her face was glum, her eyes were cast down.

"Hey, what's up, Camille?" The voice of her colleague, Officer Dwayne Myers, made her raise her head. He was in plainclothes (which meant a colourful shirt in a wild pattern, along with bright green trunks) – it was already close to 7, and work was finished for today.

"You look seriously depressed," he remarked casually, then – turning around – he said "Oh, Catherine – I'll have a beer, if you don't mind! What's the matter with Camille – she looks like she's in the dumps…"

"Oh, don't ask me…" Camille's mother made a dismissive gesture. "She won't tell me. I think it might just be hormones!"

Dwayne chuckled, and Camille finally looked up. "I'm here, if you haven't noticed. I'd appreciate if you stopped talking about me as if I wasn't there," she snapped.

"Oy, someone is in a foul mood," exclaimed Dwayne. Catherine shrugged and said pointedly "I'll get the beer for you, Dwayne. Maybe she'll tell you what's bugging her."

Camille said sarcastically "Fat chance. I'll tell Dwayne so he can tell you. No, thanks! If you need to know, I miss Fidel, and I'm in a foul mood because I'm tired. That's all."

Both her mother and Dwayne knew that this wasn't the entire truth, but they let her get away with it. It seemed pointless to probe deeper when they both knew that Camille was suffering because of other reasons besides the ones she admitted. It was of no use touching that subject, though – Camille reacted waspishly whenever someone indicated she might not have got over what had happened a little over a year ago.

Catherine shook her head in disapprobation, turned around and went to fetch Dwayne's beer.

"I have something on my mind, and I need to mull over it before I can talk about it," Camille explained as soon as her mother had disappeared, "and that's why I'm a bit gloomy. I don't want to talk about it before I have figured it out, so please don't ask me any more. I'll let you know when I'm ready to discuss it. But I'm also gloomy because Fidel is gone – I wonder who will come to replace him. I mean, the Commissioner can't step in forever, and the dynamics of the team will change, depending on what the person who'll come next will be like."

Dwayne nodded and said "That's right. I've served with many folks during my time here in the force, but man, Fidel has been the most dutiful, accurate and friendly officer I've ever worked with. Sometimes his – er - work ethics could be a bit cumbersome – he just wouldn't take things easy… but that's part of who he is. It was a joy to see how he blossomed during the two years we worked with – oh well, you know who. I miss him, too, and I hope he enjoys working with his new team on St. Lucia…"

Catherine had heard Dwayne's last words as she had returned to the table with his beer, and she said pensively "Ah, that's right… I also miss him. I miss Juliet, too, and little Rosie. Such a lovely family! It always was fun to have them here, and I really hope they have found a nice house and adjusted nicely to life on St. Lucia. Juliet surely will get accustomed quickly, she's a happy person, but Fidel might find it a little harder, depending on what the conditions at work will be like. He's a stickler for details, and he needs accuracy and all that. Ah well, he'll manage, I know… Right – I'm coming!" That was directed at another customer at the other end of the bar – she scurried off to take his order.

Left to their own devices, Camille and Dwayne sat in silence for a moment, then Dwayne took up the thread again and asked casually "Where's the Chief?" Camille raised her eyebrows and responded "I don't know, and I don't care. I'm not his nanny, although he seems to think of me that way."

Dwayne chuckled and said with a meaningful voice "We both know that he thinks of you in an entirely different way, don't we?"

Camille's rolled her eyes as she sighed and responded "Right. And this is part of my problem. The thing is, I wouldn't even have noticed if Fidel hadn't given me a hint. I'm grateful he did before he left, although he was hesitant - I have never looked at the Chief that way and couldn't imagine that he'd see anything else but a colleague and a friend in me. And now, I see the signs everywhere, and it's getting overwhelming. I mean, he's nice and all, but… Oh, you know."

Dwayne shot her a sympathetic smile and said "Yeah, I know. And in all fairness, you've never given him any reason to believe that he's more than that. It's the circumstances – his failed marriage, the problems back in the UK, the fact that we're such a close-knit group… he hasn't really made any other friends around here, apart from the team, and he's focusing too much on you. I mean, he's likeable, and he's made it easy for us to get on with him – not like…"

He stopped just in time, realising that Camille would not want to go into that topic. After a moment, he continued "But really, it's getting a bit much sometimes. He seems to expect that we're here for his entertainment, always ready to spend time with him… That's actually why I'm surprised he's not here yet. But maybe he's got other things to do – it would be cool to have an evening without him for a change! Mind you, I'm knackered, anyway. The Commissioner isn't the easiest person to work with – he lets me do all the legwork… Sorry, I know he's family for you, but honestly, Camille – I'll be glad when we get a fresh new officer who'll fit into the team, and with whom you won't have to walk on eggshells, having to wonder how your words come across."

Camille grinned and said "Yes, I know. The Commissioner has done a lot for me, and I owe him my position here in the police force, but I know very well what you mean. He can be a bit 'lordly' at times. But he's got a heart of gold, and you know that's true."

Dwayne nodded and sighed, taking a swig of his cool beer. "You're right, and it's kind of cool that he has decided to step in while we're understaffed. Maybe he'll get a better idea of what actual police work means these days… I mean, it's been quite a while since he's been in active service."

Camille nodded "Yes, that's right. Being Commissioner, making 'political' decisions, having to butter up people and trying to make everything look perfect is a world away from investigating murders and other crimes and offences, writing reports, and doing – as you said – legwork. But if you ask me, I'd always prefer the latter. I'd go crazy if I had to do what he does."

Dwayne took another swig from his bottle and said "Yeah. Would drive me bonkers, too… Oh, look, there's the cute girl I've seen around here a couple of times already. Do you think she'd let me buy her a drink?"

Camille looked over, raised her eyebrows and asked "Isn't she a bit too young for you?" Noticing the look on Dwayne's face, she sighed and said "Oh, go ahead and make a fool of yourself then. I don't care. I'm going home now, anyway. I feel I need an early night – I'm dead for today."

With that she got up, squeezed Dwayne's shoulder for a moment, and left her mother's bar.

* * *

The sun was setting as Camille took out the blanket she had brought along and spread it on the sand. She hadn't gone home – she had taken the Rover out to the beach. It was not just any old beach, it was the beach that she used to come to when she needed to think. Over the past year, she had come here rather often, wondering about life, thinking about the past and what it had brought her and asking herself what she wanted for the future.

It was a different beach from the one she had used to go to during the years before. The beach she had usually gone to _then_ was close to what was known as 'the Chief's shack', but she had stopped going there when Detective Inspector Richard Poole had left the island so abruptly. He had been here for a little over two years… And it was nearly 18 months now since he had left. It seemed a lifetime away.

Back then, she had sat at 'his' beach for a number of reasons.

For a while, it had been pure provocation because she had known very well that he had wanted peace and private time, and she had wanted to show him that he was being misanthropic and couldn't shut her – or anybody else – out.

At other times, it had been the quest for comfort and sometimes even advice when she had felt the need to think… and there'd been hope that Richard would spot her on the beach and join her for a chat. Often, she had seen more clearly afterwards, and whatever had bugged her had been put into perspective. Not that conversations with Richard had always been easy or harmonious. They had sometimes bickered quite badly, and they had even shouted at one another. But he had never lied to her or treated her condescendingly. He had a very analytical mind, and in his own warped way, he had given her food for thought.

And – although it was hard to admit – she had felt the desire to just be near him. Knowing that he was only a few steps away from her – that had been helpful and comforting in a strange way.

That beach had witnessed many, many tiffs and arguments, she had stomped off a couple of times, she had sat there on a real wooden chair with him a couple of times – that had been before he had finally given in and sat in the sand, he had hunted her down the beach once when she had changed all the channels on his TV, and they had spent some quiet evenings on his veranda, sitting together and having a drink in companionable silence.

Now, that the shack was inhabited by Richard's successor, Humphrey Goodman, Camille didn't go there all that often any more. When she went there, it was because she had to pick him up or because he had invited her to come for some reason – like when he had recently asked her to watch a horror movie with him (okay, that hadn't been the way he had worded his invitation. He had asked her to come because he had a surprise for her... Good grief, he had annoyed her no end with his comments to the film – couldn't he just let her sit and watch in peace? No surprise he had been bullied by his brothers who surely had been desperate to shut him up and keep him quiet! His craving for attention was so tiresome!). But she didn't show up on his doorstep out on a whim as she had done it with Richard.

By the time he had invited her to watch that film with him, she had already been warned by Fidel that Humphrey had fallen in love with her – or that he _thought_ that this had happened. Fidel had left the team a little while ago, and during the farewell party they had thrown for him and Juliet, he had taken Camille to one side and said "Camille, I have wondered for a while whether or not I should tell you, and I still don't know if I'm doing the right thing, but I have talked about it with Juliet and she said it's better if I had a word with you about… about the Chief."

Camille had laughed and asked good-humouredly "Now, what could that be about, Fidel? That you want me to take good care of him? I'm not his mommy… although he obviously needs someone who keeps him from getting into all sorts of scrapes!"

Oh, how naïve she had been…

Fidel had looked at her very earnestly and replied "No, that's not the point. I want you to know that he's besotted with you, and actually he thinks he's in love with you. For the moment, he seems to believe it's best to keep it to himself, but I'm telling you, he's not going to do that forever. Soon, you might find yourself in the unfortunate position of being the object of his absolute and undivided adoration. I don't think you are aware of the danger – he doesn't see that you don't treat him in any special way. He thinks you have deeper feelings for him as well, and it's only a matter of time until he will confess his love to you – when we both know that he's basically just confused and lonely."

Camille had been flabbergasted – she had never looked at Humphrey like that, and it had seemed so ridiculous that he would think she had taken a shine to him that she had started laughing out loud. But when she had seen the concerned look on Fidel's face, her laughter had broken off abruptly, and she had asked anxiously "You aren't serious, are you?"

She had known his answer before he had opened his mouth. "Good grief," she had said, aghast, "I didn't realise this. Is it that bad, really?" Fidel had nodded quietly, touched Camille's arm and said insistently "Be careful, Camille. He's bottling it all up, and he's about to burst. If you're not careful, you'll be sorry. I know you're ready to defend yourself and can rebuff a guy, if necessary, but he's going to make it all awkward later on by apologising over and over and – oh, you know what he's like!"

Yes, she knew what Humphrey was like… She had glanced over to him, as he had been standing there, trying to explain something to Juliet. When he had seen her looking at him, he had winked and smiled – and she had pretended that she hadn't noticed and looked away quickly.

It had curdled her stomach to think of the mess that would come out of any kind of confession that Humphrey could make… No, she had to do her best to avoid a situation like that.

That night, she had come to _this_ beach after Fidel's and Juliet's farewell party, and she had finally found the courage to face what had been bugging her for a while already… the fact that she was feeling trapped on Saint Marie. When she had moved here and become a member of the local police team, she had found it challenging to re-adjust to regular police work – after several years of undercover work, the mere thought of doing 'normal' work again had been crippling.

And Richard hadn't made it easy for her – it had taken her a while to realise that it hadn't been personal, he hadn't made it easy for anyone, including himself. It had taken them a while to grow together as a team, but they had successfully solved a number of difficult cases, and after some time, she had realised that working with him had made her a better detective. They had complemented each other, and they had shared an unlikely and rather awkward friendship…

A friendship that she would have loved to take further… but it had never happened.

When she had reached this point in her memories, Camille sighed, stretched out on the blanket and stared into the sky – wondering for a moment what he might be doing now.

She still remembered how they had bickered over her refusing to call him 'Chief' after they had solved the case of the killing of Polly Carter, the former super model. Oh, he had been so childish about this! As if it was necessary to address him with whatever kind of title to acknowledge his position… To her, he was so much more than a title. She wasn't into using these formal addresses, anyway. A title made the respective people behind them exchangeable, that was how she saw it. So, she preferred other forms of address for people she cared about and respected.

As she saw it, the address 'Commissioner' was an official title that she used for Selwyn Patterson when she encountered him on official ground, it described his function. But in private, she called him 'Uncle Selwyn' – and that was who he really was to her.

She would have used 'Richard', but she hadn't dared to call him by his first name – right, a few times, in exceptional situations she had done it – she remembered he had fainted in the office once, and she had called him 'Richard' when she had tried to bring him back to consciousness. There had been a few other occasions, but somehow, he hadn't encouraged this – and so she had ended up calling him 'sir'… that was different from the more official 'Inspector' - that the Commissioner used – and also different from the casual 'Chief' that Dwayne and Fidel used. Using 'sir' made him stand out to her. He had seen it differently – not that he had given her a chance to explain, he had just childishly insisted on her to use 'Chief' – which she had defiantly refused to do. Not by saying so openly, but by simply not using it.

How silly they had been… She still wondered how his apparently relatively normal parents could have ended up with a son like him - an apparently starchy, self-centred, pedantic, childish moron who was brilliant at his job, but a complete waste of space when it came to social skills.

And still… never before and never again had a man fascinated her like this.

For a moment, Camille closed her eyes and remembered how he had tried to comfort and support her after Aimee's death. How he had given her orchids to show his sympathy… How he had held her hands for a moment.

She also recalled how he had sat on the patio when her mother had asked her to go and greet her blind date, and she had thought it was him… how her heart had jumped with surprise and joy…

And she smiled at the memory of the night in the weather lab… how he had lectured her about the case before he had finally opened up a little and talked about his parents, the seaside holidays of his childhood and other memories.

She had asked him if he was like his father… and he had said that he didn't think so… The truth was that he was _very much_ like his father in some key respects, but he was totally different in others. He also shared quite a few traits with his mother – who had been very uptight when she had first arrived on Saint Marie, but then loosened up and turned out to be a really nice lady. Richard was a fusspot, like she had apparently been most of her life.

Now that Camille had met his parents, she could see where some of his idiosyncrasies came from. And the upbringing in a single sex boarding school surely hadn't helped… He had learnt to hide behind a uniform, a mask of professionalism, an air of 'I don't care'… when in fact, he did care a lot about some things and some people.

Well, it was all pointless. Those times were gone, they had both moved on, and she had to deal with different issues and problems now… The most pressing one at the moment was surely what she wanted to do with her life now. She realised she couldn't really continue working with the Chief… or with Humphrey or whatever she called him. Even the notion 'sir' didn't mean anything special to her any more, so she used it for him as well…

Realising that she couldn't go on working with him consequently meant she couldn't stay on Saint Marie. Where else could she go? And what line of work would she want to pursue?

What kind of future would she want to build for herself?


	2. Looking Back

Chapter 2 – Looking Back

It was just after midnight when Catherine Bordey made ready to close down her bar. This had been an average evening – nothing too spectacular, but not too bad, either. She closed the shutters, locked the door and walked to her house that wasn't too far from La Kaz.

The Rover was parked in a side street, around the corner. Camille apparently had been too lazy to take it to the station's parking lot. Well, she could always take it back tomorrow… Catherine stepped on the small walk way that led to the front door and listened to the crickets, playing their 'music'…

How she loved living in the Caribbean! Admittedly, it wasn't always as easy as the tourists might think, and she had gone through some heart breaking times during her early years here, but it had all fallen into place, and now she couldn't imagine living anywhere else. Funny to think that she had grown up in a small town in the North of France… that seemed like it had been in another life…

As a young woman, she had moved to Paris, and after her training in a restaurant, she had left to explore the world – she had wanted to travel extensively before settling down in France again.

Well, it had turned out differently. She had ended up in the Caribbean, with a man from St. Lucia whom she had met during her travels… and soon enough, there had been a little baby girl. She thanked fate or whatever was responsible for it for having a daughter like Camille. She wasn't always sweet, easy-going or wonderful, but Catherine loved her dearly – no matter how headstrong, unreasonable and mulish she sometimes was. She had raised her to be an independent, self-confident woman, and they had gone together through thick and thin after Catherine's husband had left…

With a sigh she took off the colourful scarf she had wrapped around her hair, like a turban, shook her head so the wavy strands fell down freely, and remembered how he had shown up so unexpectedly last year. Some of the things he had said had deeply disturbed Camille, and there had been a bit of a crisis between her and her daughter. But fortunately, she had been able to explain herself to Camille – who had been reluctant to listen at first, but then had realised that she had no reason to be offended or feel betrayed. Humphrey had played some part in that scenario, too, and Catherine was very grateful for his help in a situation that could easily have caused a rift between her and her daughter.

For a while, Catherine had hoped that Camille would forget her former boss and find love with Humphrey, but the longer she watched these two, the more she realised that they weren't really compatible.

Humphrey adored Camille – and Camille was bored to tears with his adoration. For the longest time, she hadn't even realised that he was smitten with her; she had felt safe because he had been married, simply taking it for granted that two people who had promised to love and honour each other would make every possible effort to try and overcome potential 'issues' before they'd call it quits. She had automatically assumed that Humphrey and his wife were just going through a rough patch and that everything would pan out in the end.

But then his marriage had fallen apart, and now, even Camille couldn't ignore any longer that Humphrey's eyes turned to puddles of love when he looked at her. But Catherine couldn't help it – she wasn't sure if it was really that he was in love with Camille, or if it was rather that he was on the rebound and needed someone – anyone – to help him out of his misery.

Catherine had recently asked her daughter very cautiously how she felt about Humphrey, and Camille had just shaken her head and responded a little sadly "I'm afraid I mostly feel like his nanny… you know how clumsy he is! I'm constantly trying to keep him out of disaster. He's really a nice and intelligent man, and I like and respect him as my boss and as a friend, but… that's it…"

With a frown she remembered how she had then asked "It still hurts then?" Camille had sighed and run a hand through her hair. For a brief moment she had looked away, then she had turned her head to face her mother, and her eyes had been brimming with unshed tears as she had said almost inaudibly "It does. I miss him so much…" She had been absolutely honest. Catherine knew that she didn't _want_ to miss Richard, but she did…

It wasn't healthy. Camille was young, she should enjoy herself, she should do fun things, she should go out and meet people. Over the past year, she had mostly spent her spare time with the team – and yes, often, she had had fun, but there had also been quite a few moments of deep sadness, of regret, of worry, of loss, of reminiscing, of wondering 'what could have been'… Catherine had seen the signs, and she had known that quite often, Camille had retreated into her own little bubble, being apparently happy-go-lucky on the outside, but actually feeling like she was dead inside. She knew her daughter well enough for not falling for her charades.

Recently, she had felt that Camille's uneasiness with Humphrey had become worse. Obviously, Camille felt that Humphrey's decision not to reconcile with his wife Sally meant that he was up to something.

Catherine felt sorry for Humphrey who was such a good and caring man – albeit awkward and clumsy. He just couldn't live up to Camille's standards, and the feelings for Richard were still so vivid and alive in her that she wouldn't give anybody else a chance. But even if the memory of Richard hadn't been an obstacle, Catherine had to admit reluctantly that she couldn't quite see her daughter being happy with Humphrey. There were absolutely no sparks between them. Humphrey just was nice, but he didn't challenge Camille, he didn't force her to think outside of the box. His advances meant nothing to her, he just was like a puppy, running after her, and trying to catch her attention.

With Richard, it had been entirely different. They had bickered, they had argued, they had shouted at one another… but they had always reconciled, and Richard – who had also been awkward and clumsy, but in a very different way – had challenged Camille, he had driven her up the walls, and he had made her pull her hair out – but the looks they had exchanged sometimes, the half smiles he had given her every once in a while, the deep conversations they had sometimes had… all that had meant incredibly much to Camille. There had been sparks between those two, oh yes! Sparks of anger and fury sometimes – but more and more often, something else had flared up as well. Catherine hesitated to name it, but if she was honest, it had clearly been mutual attraction, real affection and curiosity.

Well, they had never got a chance to get any further than that.

Only a few weeks after Richard's parents – Jennifer and Graham - had been there (who had reconciled thanks to Richard's efforts… Catherine had been touched by his resolve to make his parents realise that they really wanted to stay together, despite some misunderstandings, problems and frustrations – obviously, Richard was a much more sensitive and feeling man than she had given him credit for!), the Commissioner had shown up as the team was celebrating another solved case and taken Richard to one side.

Camille had watched them talking, and when the Commissioner had left, she had approached the totally dumbfounded Richard who had just sat there, staring into his beer and obviously not quite sure how he was feeling. They had talked for a moment, and shortly afterwards, he had picked up his briefcase and jacket, declined Camille's offer to drive him home and stalked off.

For a long, long moment, Camille's eyes had followed him, then she had turned around on her heel and joined Dwayne and Fidel again who had been sitting at a table, wondering what was going on.

And a week later, Richard had been gone. He had been re-transferred to the UK, and another Inspector had been assigned to Saint Marie. Humphrey Goodman had arrived four weeks after Richard had left, and the chapter 'DI Poole' had been closed. Or so it had seemed.

Of course, Camille had not forgotten him. Catherine was only too aware of it… If only she could do something to help her daughter so she'd get out of the deep hole she had fallen into…

Deeply in thoughts, Catherine finally entered her house. Everything was still, so hopefully, Camille was fast asleep… There wasn't any noise coming from her room, so Catherine made an extra-effort to go through her night routine quietly and retire to her own room without any further ado. She stretched out under the crispy sheets and made a mental note of finally taking the time tomorrow to pull out her laptop and write some long overdue e-mails…

* * *

Camille lay awake in her bed and heard how her mother entered the house. She hoped that Catherine wouldn't come into her room any more to see if she was asleep – she didn't really want to talk any more at this point. The evening at the beach had done her good although it had brought back painful memories. She had avoided them for too long, though, so it had been necessary to sit with them for a while and feel the pain. She had realised that within the chaos of emotions that were bugging her, two were predominant – sadness and anger.

Sadness - because she had never had more with Richard than this awkward friendship… they had been on the road to more than that, as she had sensed, but alas, circumstances had been against them. And anger – because she couldn't help the feeling that he had run away from her, although he had clearly known that there was more between them than a work friendship. She had seen it in his eyes – every once in a while, he had looked at her with a certain puzzled softness, as if he wasn't sure what to make of his own feelings. And there had been more than just his gaze… It upset her that he hadn't made a move at all. And it angered her that she just couldn't forget him, although he had very obviously forgotten her…

Well, at least she hadn't left him in the dark about her feelings – when it had been time to say good-bye, she had clearly let him know that she thought he was betraying both of them and throwing away something that could have been so much more if he had just given it a chance.

The team had gathered at Richard's house to wait for the cab that would take him to the airport. It had been very similar to the situation when he had escorted Vicky Woodward to London a while back, but this time, there hadn't been any questioning whether or not he'd come back.

He wouldn't.

Fidel and Dwayne had shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and she had made a few pointed remarks while Richard had tried to make conversation. The tension had been unbearable. Finally, Dwayne had let out an exasperated sigh and said "Right, Chief, I'll wait outside if you don't mind." And he had stalked off, making a jerking movement with his head towards Fidel who had taken his cue and said hastily "I'll join you, Dwayne – wait!"

And so it had only been Richard and her in the shack for a few moments. Silence had fallen between them. He had fidgeted nervously at the cuffs of his shirt's sleeves. She had plucked up all her courage and moved closer to him until there hadn't been more than maybe three inches between their bodies. Much to her surprise he hadn't backed off. He hadn't come forward, either. He had just stood there, waiting for her to do something. She hadn't been quite sure what to say, but then, the words had fallen from her lips. She had whispered "So, this is it… You're going away, and I'm staying here… Is this what you want?"

He had shaken his head, shrugged a little helplessly and said in a very low and almost subdued voice "Not really. But I don't really have a choice, and you know it. And in the end it might be better for both of us… How do you always say? 'C'est la vie'? Um – yes, that's it. You're most likely better off without me, and I'll most likely have more peace of mind without you…"

It had been the 'peace of mind' part that had provoked her. So he had perceived her as disturbing, as disconcerting, as troubling? Well, she'd give him something really _unsettling_ to mull over then… within an instant, she had put her arms around his neck and closed the gap between them, and her lips had found his in a sweet, slow, passionate kiss. He hadn't held her off – quite the opposite… she had felt his arms come around her, and he had pressed her against his body, his tongue had found its way between her lips, exploring her mouth, and for a moment, they had both forgotten where they were and what was going to happen. It had been all about 'here and now'.

Camille had felt one of his hands on the small of her back, the other one roaming over her back to her shoulderblade, his grip had been firm, his kiss determined, deep, and clearly anything but chaste, and just when she had felt her body reacting and wanting more, the tooting of the cab's horn had come as a reminder that this was not meant to be and he'd be gone soon.

Naturally, it had broken the spell. Richard had loosened his grip and disengaged himself very carefully from her arms. It had been a moment of utter frustration for her, and the look on his face had proved that he hadn't been happy to go, either. But he had pulled himself together and said "There's my cab, Camille. I must leave now…"

His voice had been tender and slightly shaky, and he had given her a last crooked smile, then he had turned around and left. She had been too dazed to react for a moment, but then she had suddenly realised that he'd be gone forever in an instant, and she had run outside, trying to wipe away the tears and waving frantically as his cab had pulled away from the beach. She had seen how he had turned his head to look back, but she hadn't been able to recognise his face – everything had been a blur.

As she lay there, she remembered the strong feeling of bereavement that had nearly overwhelmed her. Fidel had taken her in his arms and let her cry, and Dwayne had muttered a couple of expletives under his breath that clearly had fallen into the 'unprintable' category.

Over the coming four weeks, she had been in charge of the station, and this had been quite an epiphany for her. She had realised that there was more to being head of a police station that she had ever considered. She had had her hands full with all sorts of things she had never wasted a single thought on, and in the sadness and anger, other feelings had begun to take root – the surprising feeling of inadequacy and a sudden guilt that she had never understood how much work Richard had actually put into running the station properly. Along with that, she had felt a grudge settling in – a grudge against him for leaving them – leaving _her_ \- like this.

It had been a relief when Humphrey had showed up because she hadn't been responsible for all these little details any longer – or so she had thought. All too soon, however, it had turned out that he wasn't particularly organised, and while she had used to laugh and poke fun at Richard's extreme meticulousness and accuracy, she now had wished Humphrey had a little more of exactly these qualities. He was a very gifted detective, and he did a wonderful job as far as his investigations were concerned – but his way of jotting down notes on whatever scrap of paper was available had driven her to distraction ever since she had started to work with him.

So, Camille had taken on the habit of always carrying two notepads and several pens – one set for herself and a second one for Humphrey. She had got used to looking for files, preparing statements, and drafting reports for him.

She had also got accustomed to his sloppy way of dressing – yes, she had mocked Richard for wearing suits, and his attire had clearly been impractical, but Humphrey's outfit wasn't only casual, it was sometimes on the verge of being grubby and untidy. She had got used to it, after a while. At least, he didn't faint, as Richard had done – his linen clothes were a lot lighter than the woollen suits Richard had worn.

Humphrey's way of working had turned out to be more intuitive than Richard's. He was clever and well-educated, just like Richard, but he had better people skills. However, Camille had realised with time that Humphrey's desperate and sometimes almost embarrassing attempts to fit in and 'do as the locals do' were just as annoying as Richard's way of keeping to himself and sticking out like a sore thumb in his Englishness.

She had tried hard to be fair and let Humphrey find his feet in the new situation, but sometimes it had been challenging. However, she did like him, and his open and friendly manners were different enough from Richard's sometimes rather buttoned-up behaviour, so eventually, she had settled with the situation and adjusted to the way her position had changed – she was now a mix of detective, governess, nanny and agony aunt.

It had helped that there was zero communication between Richard and her. She had written him an e-mail shortly after his departure, veiled as a request for advice with the reports she had to write for the Commissioner during the time she was responsible for the station. Of course, she could have asked Uncle Selwyn – he would have given her all the information she needed… But she had claimed she hadn't wanted to admit her ignorance and hence contacted _him_ as the person who'd know best what to do. His reply had been short, to-the-point and business-like. He had not written anything personal, and while she had signed off with 'Thank you for your help – your friend always, Camille' and added an 'x' and an 'o' to indicate her affection, his e-mail had finished with 'Sincerely, Richard Poole' – the official standard signature he obviously used by default for everyone.

That had put her off from contacting him again – and since he had never written to find out if his e-mail had been helpful, she had concluded he wasn't interested, and the feelings she had thought he had had for her had all been a figment of her imagination.

She had decided she'd just file it under 'experiences' and forget about him. Then Humphrey had arrived, and she had made an effort to get on with him. She had adjusted to him with time, and their rapport was good and relaxed.

Over the past weeks, however, she had felt how she had got more and more impatient with Humphrey, and when Fidel had told her about his observations and insights, she had been aghast.

Tonight, she had finally mustered up the courage to face the fact that she had indeed not forgotten Richard, no matter how hard she had tried not to let the memories of him surface all too often. It bugged her how she still wanted to tell him that she missed him… Well, it wouldn't change anything, she knew that, and that was why she had pretended so hard that she didn't – but indeed… she had learnt to live her life without him, but she didn't particularly like it this way. She needed distraction. A new task. A new hobby, maybe? Or a new line of work?

She had also realised that staying on Saint Marie was no longer an option – due to several reasons.

One was Humphrey's growing affection for her – paired with the more than just 'likely' possibility that he'd come up with a stupid confession that would make it impossible for her to keep working with him. He'd blurt it out and spoil everything.

Another prominent reason was that she was reminded of Richard at every corner, and people kept asking her if she had heard from him, so there were silent (and not so silent) witnesses of their friendship – or whatever it had been – literally everywhere. Since she had already figured out that she needed distraction and considered taking a new direction – professionally –, leaving Saint Marie sounded like a good idea. She'd miss her mother, but Maman would understand, and they could keep in touch – maybe more than during her years of undercover work when her line of work had prohibited anything that had gone beyond erratic contact with family.

She knew that she couldn't run away from problems, but a change of scenery seemed like a good idea under the circumstances given. She would kill two birds with one stone that way – that sounded very tempting.

Well, for now she should better try and get some sleep… it was a normal workday tomorrow, and surely Humphrey would keep her on her toes with his stupid antics. She was so tired of him falling out of windows, stumbling over steps and nearly ruining all his shirts and jackets with odd stains… And - of course - getting wet feet...

She'd think about it all a bit more thoroughly and look out for options, and maybe she'd find a way out of this chaos without hurting anyone too much…


	3. Communication or Conspiration?

Chapter 3 – Communication or Conspiration?

Selwyn Patterson opened his e-mails and frowned – a message from Catherine Bordey? Now, what could that mean? A while ago, he had signed up for her newsletter that informed her regular customers about special events, like karaoke nights, Sunday brunches, and theme parties, or about limited offers when she had received a particular delivery she wanted to reserve for special patrons – but from the subject heading, he suspected that this was not the newsletter…

Pinching the spot between his eyebrows, he clicked on the message header "Care for free lunch today?"

It read

' _Dear Selwyn – No, this is not a clickbait header. I really mean it. I'm worried about something (it refers to Camille, so please don't say anything to her about this e-mail), and I'd like to ask you for your view on the matter & maybe you can come up with some advice. Let me know if 1.30 p.m. works for you. Camille's lunch break is earlier, and it will be quiet at the bar, so we could sit and talk without having to worry about uninvited guests or eavesdroppers. Would be best / easiest if you could call me on the phone or send a text as I won't be checking my e-mails any more today. You can choose between three options of food – I'm attaching a short list, please let me know in time what you'd prefer so I can prepare it for you. Thank you so much, and I hope to see you later! – Catherine'_

Now, that was unusual. Catherine rarely ever asked for advice. So, it had to be something serious… He took a peek at the three dishes that she had listed – they all sounded tempting. Well, Catherine knew what he liked… It would save him from cooking something for himself tonight – his wife had her bi-weekly get-together at the 'crafty café' or whatever it was called… she always took her cross-stitching project along, but he felt that she made very little progress on it. He suspected the whole thing was just an excuse to get together and have a good old chinwag – but who was he to judge this…

On those evenings, he had mostly gone out… – however, his favourite TV programme had recently been shifted to this particular time slot, so over the past three months, he had been eating at home on those occasions. He wasn't a particularly gifted cook, so his wife had usually prepared him something that he just had to put into the microwave… but today, she had several other errands and appointments on her to-do list, so he knew she would be relieved to hear that he'd have lunch at La Kaz and just eat a sandwich – or maybe two – tonight. He could manage sandwiches – and maybe he'd also have a scrambled egg on toast along with the sandwich? He'd see…

He picked up the phone and called his wife to inform her about his plans (she was delighted as it saved her from rushing around, trying to prepare something for him and feeling guilty for not taking good care of him… silly, but that was how she was wired!), and after that, he had another – closer – look at Catherine's little list before he rang her.

* * *

"That was delicious, Catherine… Thank you!" said Selwyn Patterson as he put down his cutlery, took another sip of his wine and then daintily dabbed the corners of his mouth with a bright yellow napkin.

Catherine – who had sat with him with a glass of juice and watched him eating – picked up a little crumb from the tablecloth and discarded it on the floor. She seemed hesitant to talk, although she had asked him to come. He sat back and folded his hands over his stomach, giving her an encouraging glance and asking "So, what's the matter? You mentioned it was about Camille?"

That made her look up, and he saw the apprehension in her eyes. "Come on," he coaxed, "you know you can trust me. If you say it's confidential, it's confidential, and I won't say anything to anybody – unless you want me to do precisely that."

Catherine smiled amiably and said "Oh, I know, Selwyn, but thank you for pointing it out once more. I'd like to keep this conversation between just the two of us. As it is, nobody, including Camille, knows that I've contacted you, and I want it to stay that way. I'm just worried, and I need someone to talk to. Look, the thing is that I have the feeling that Camille is getting itchy feet and could do with a change of scenery. She's been a little restless for a while already now, and while I'm sure she's not bored with her job or feels unchallenged or underwhelmed there, I get the feeling that she's not entirely satisfied, either."

The Commissioner nodded gravely and said "I can easily see your point. I have observed a certain tension about her as well lately. You know that I'm currently involved in the team's investigations, and it seems to me that she's a little edgy these days. She's always been temperamental, but it appears that she's somewhat… er… out of balance."

A thought crossed his mind and he asked "Do you think it has to do with the Inspector? I think they work well together, although she doesn't seem as – er – engaged in the cases as she used to be with Poole. Goodman is excellent, but he's a little – er – erratic, and it seems that Camille spends a lot of time on getting things prepared for him and then cleaning up after him. I wish he'd get a bit more tidy and organised, but that's none of my business – he's a brilliant detective, and that's what he gets paid for. Where Poole was meticulous and pedantic, though, Goodman can be a bit sloppy, and I can see that Camille has little patience for that. Having said that… she had little patience for Poole's – er – peculiarities, too. At least at first…"

He chuckled, remembering how she had stood there, with folded arms, exclaiming 'I can't work with him', while Poole, a look of sheer horror and shock on his face, had cried out 'I can't work with her'… Oh, these two had been quite a pair… It had been fun to see them working together – they'd been very efficient partners.

He waited for Catherine's answer, knowing exactly that she was trying to figure out how to say enough so he'd know what was going on without revealing more than she should so he'd be alarmed.

Finally, she answered "Well, that's true – patience has never been Camille's strong side. Although – it really depends. You know how you have to have a certain kind of patience for undercover work, and she told me how it never mattered to her if she had to sit for hours in a car or on a bench, observing someone. Also, she's been very lenient with – er – Inspector Poole's odd phobias. Once she had found out that he wasn't faking it, she always was very forthcoming and supportive when something came up that she knew he'd be uncomfortable with. And he got better about it, didn't he, thanks to her patience… So, I don't know in how far patience – or lack thereof - is a problem for her. I think, however, that she's simply ready for a change. We all know there's little – if any - perspective here on Saint Marie. But where could she go, and what kind of job could she do? And in all honesty, I don't want her to go back to undercover work – I didn't worry back then, but I'm not getting any younger, and the more I hear about her work back then, the less I want her to go back to this again."

The Commissioner waggled his eyebrows and inquired "Do you think she'd consider that? She wouldn't want to leave you alone any more, I'd think?"

"That's right, but I could convince her that I'd be fine with it as long as I knew she's safe – which you can't really guarantee in undercover work. Of course, being part of the police force always implies a certain danger that something could happen – it can be a dangerous career, and I'm aware of that. But there's got to be something less dangerous and unpredictable than undercover work, I reckon…"

"Hmmm…" made the well-nourished man sitting opposite. Selwyn Patterson wasn't very happy with the idea that one of the best officers that he had ever had in the local team might want to leave the forces and never come back.

"You know, as it is, Catherine, I doubt they'd let her work undercover for the British police," he informed her. Catherine's surprised look made it obvious that she had never thought about this. "Look, she was trained in France and is familiar with the French system and structure. When Poole blew her cover, she was involved in a project that was a joint investigation of British and French forces, but formally, she was part of the French force. When I gave her the job as DS here on Saint Marie, I had to work around some bureaucratic hurdles because her training wasn't automatically acknowledged by the Brits. That caused some commotion, as you can guess, and some people were seriously miffed for a while. It's a senior position, and they usually like to plan ahead who will get which position, there's a bit of a line-up for promotions and all that. I had to pull some strings to get her appointed for the position. The previous team had consisted of a DI – Hulme – a regular sergeant – Thompson – and two officers – Best and Myers. All of a sudden, I had a DI – Poole – a DS – Camille – and two officers – Best and Myers. And we both know that when Poole encouraged Best to take the Sergeants' Exams, he made him line up for a promotion at another place as there was no way he could get a sergeant's position here, let alone get promoted to DS. At least not as long as Camille held the job."

A lightbulb seemed to appear over Catherine's head as she listened to the Commissioner's explanations. "So, that means the team was overstaffed with a DI, a DS, a sergeant and an officer, and Fidel had to go away because if he didn't, he'd have been stuck with a lower salary forever?"

Patterson nodded and said "This is why they're not replacing him with another sergeant. I've tried to take influence, but despite my objections, the new person will be a regular officer, having to go through all the ordeals and exams before the Sergeant's stripes might wait as an award in the end. That will take some time, and that's the way it should be… Still, I feel that we could definitely use a second sergeant in the team and another officer – there's no lack of work here, despite the crime solving rate being top-notch, there still happens more than I'd like the press and the tourist board to know. Four people just aren't enough, all their capacities are tied when a capital offence happens… They have no time to deal with the petty crime that keeps happening then… But I'm digressing… In any event, it was a good thing that we got a DS anchored here as a regular sergeant like Thompson was naturally has a lower qualification, and while Thompson was clever, she wasn't as clever as she thought, and I'm not sure she would have passed all the exams with grades that would have qualified and recommended her for a DS position. Not to mention what she did in the end – we don't have to discuss that any further, I suppose. In any case, Camille's presence has brought the station a real boost, not only because she's Camille, but also because of her qualification, the adherent competence and experience, and the reputation resulting from her successful cooperation with Poole. But… the point is, if she wanted to go back to undercover work at this point, she'd perhaps have to leave the British forces and re-join the French to get an adequate position. We have certainly freedom of movement as members of the European Union, but still, she might lose part of her pension in the end."

Catherine thought of the dual citizenship that Camille had had to apply for when she had joined the Saint Marie team. She had been purely French – she had never had St. Lucian citizenship – but had had to apply for British citizenship so she could become a member of the police team here as Saint Marie was a British Overseas Territory. That had been necessary because the Police Force was dealing with official duties and what was apparently called 'sovereign functions' – you had to be a citizen for that sort of workfield. - Obviously, she had been aware of that, but she hadn't realised that Camille's career path had been crooked and unusual, and it had never occurred to her that Camille might not be eligible to work in other parts of the force due to her lack of training there. She asked "I thought there are rules regarding recognition qualifications and degrees from other countries?"

"That's right," was the answer, "but you know how claim and reality sometimes aren't identical. Formally she could take any route in the British force, but the thing is… they won't let her. They have their own people, you know."

Catherine shook her head in surprise and said "I've never looked at it this way. So you think she's stuck here, anyway?"

After a long thoughtful glance, Patterson said "Not if she really wants to go. I'd really hate to see her leave – and that's an understatement! - but I can certainly see your reasons for asking about options. Nothing worse than having an officer in your team who'd rather be somewhere else. Except for Poole, I'd say, I've never seen anyone who'd worked hard and diligently, solving one case after the other, although they rather wanted to quit and move… either to the UK or to some other place. Yes, Poole was the only exception. He did amazing work. I wish he had stayed. But you can't have it all, can you. So, to cut a long story short, if you want me to look out for opportunities that could suit Camille, I can put out my feelers."

"Oh, Selwyn, that would be wonderful. I mean, it doesn't have to be a permanent arrangement. I'm sure that a year away or so would help her already a great deal. She'd have enough time to get the cobwebs out of her head, and I'm sure she'd be ready to return to Saint Marie eventually… if there's hope she wouldn't be stuck with the same old position, of course. But I'm sure you know what I mean… Camille isn't extremely career-driven, but she wants to accomplish _something_ , and she won't like playing second fiddle for the rest of her life."

Catherine knew she couldn't be too clear about what she had in mind for her daughter, but Selwyn Patterson was no fool – he realised that this was a nudge regarding Camille's qualifications and abilities to fill the position of Chief of police.

Since he wasn't quite sure what possibilities and prospects were out there and didn't want to make any promises that he couldn't keep, he just nodded and made a non-committal remark, saying that he'd keep his eyes open for options and encourage Camille to take the chances she was offered when the time was right.

With that, he sighed, got up, and said "Thank you again for lunch, Catherine. It was scrumptious and absolutely delicious. I really wonder what some of the spices are that you use – I know other people who cook the same dish, and it looks exactly the same, but it tastes totally different. I wish I could pinpoint what it is… then I could give Fleurette a hint…"

Catherine laughed and shook her head, saying "No way – I'm not going to tell you my secrets, Selwyn. I've got to have this ace up my sleeve to lure you to the bar when I need to talk to you!"

He chuckled and said "Very well, Catherine, very well. I'll leave you now. I'll let you know when something comes up that I consider suitable for Camille…"

* * *

At the other end of the planet, Jennifer Poole looked at her e-mail inbox and sighed. She had always been a faithful correspondent as long as people had stuck to regular postal mail, but now that e-mail was the 'thing', it had become so hard to stay on top of things. She made an effort to clean up her inbox regularly, but it seemed she never managed to empty it. Yesterday, she had replied to eight short and two long e-mails – it had been such a relief to hit 'delete' afterwards – or move them into a specific folder – sometimes, she wanted to keep a message to look at it again later. Mostly Richard's e-mails went into the archive folder – provided they were longer than a sentence. He was a lousy writer.

There were already five new e-mails waiting for her attention – good grief, one person had sent a reply to yesterday's message already. Some people clearly had too much time on their hands. But what was that – a message from Catherine Bordey? How nice! They exchanged messages monthly, more or less – ever since Jennifer had met Catherine during her stay on Saint Marie, she had felt that they were kindred spirits, despite all their differences in lifestyle, upbringing and background. Neither of them could quite pinpoint what exactly they had in common, but they had become friends, and they had exchanged e-mail addresses so they could keep in touch. Jennifer had deliberately 'forgotten' to tell Richard that she was in touch with Camille's mother. She knew that he'd only worry about their communication. Sometimes she wondered if he was paranoid – she and Catherine talked about all things under the sun, not only about their offspring, as Richard surely would have presumed.

Thanks to Catherine, Jennifer had learnt a few new recipes, and she had been updated and informed about all the recent developments on the island where her son had served for over two years. Richard had always been so reserved with everything – and it had been hard for her to imagine what his life had been like in the Caribbean.

Too bad that he had been re-transferred to the UK… While Jennifer had been pleased to have him nearby again, she had been sad that he had come alone – she had thought he might muster up the courage and ask Camille to come with him. Although she had been pre-occupied with her own situation, she had sensed that there was more to their friendship than he had wanted to admit.

But he had never ever lost a single syllable about the whole thing… and when she had cautiously asked how he had felt about having to leave, he had just given a grunt and said that 'at least he wasn't bathed in sweat the moment he got up any more now'… Sometimes, she thought he was a hopeless case… Graham kept saying she should leave him alone – he'd have to live his own life.

Jennifer certainly agreed with that, but she didn't see anything wrong in wanting her son to be happy. And happy he wasn't… He wasn't really depressed or sad, either – he just was… well, he was Richard. Morose, worried, pessimistic and overall, his own dazzling self, as Catherine had once described him.

While Jennifer had accepted this for years and years, she found herself being unable to accept it any longer. There was no reason for her son to become a willful old bachelor – or an 'old fogey', as she called it secretly. He wasn't bad-looking, he was sincere, he was caring… He just was so morose because he was lonely. And he was lonely because he was afraid of having friends – who might turn out as fakes. During her stay in Saint Marie she had seen that very clearly. His team had been so supportive, and particularly Camille had moved heaven and earth for him to make him feel comfortable in certain situations – but he had been afraid to show his gratitude and affection. He just found it hard to trust.

Maybe he'd have developed differently if they hadn't sent him to boarding school so early. She remembered the stinging tears in her eyes… every time they had sent him back to school after a break, even if it had only been for another week, he had looked at her with disappointment, pain and misery in his big, green eyes. She had always felt like she was sending him to ascend the scaffold, and it was still haunting her.

But well, it was obviously useless to dwell on that. Maybe Catherine's e-mail would cheer her up…

She opened it and began to read.


	4. Reflections

Chapter 4 - Reflections

A few weeks later, Camille was rummaging through her closet on a Friday when her mother came into the house to bring in some fresh fruit she had bought on the market. It was lunch time – on other weekdays, Catherine's bar was open from 11 a.m. all through the day, but she opened later on Fridays and weekends because the bar was open for much longer in the nights then. Camille had come home for her break – she couldn't bother to spend all her breaks with Humphrey and the team literally every day. Every once in a while, she needed to escape!

"I'm putting the mango, pineapple and maracuja in the basket on the kitchen counter! Help yourself if you're hungry!" Catherine called out. When she didn't get an answer, she went into Camille's room and found her with her head deep in the closet. "What are you looking for?" she asked curiously. Camille almost jumped when she was addressed so unexpectedly – she hadn't noticed that her mother had entered the house at all.

"Oh, it's you!" she said with a little embarrassed laugh. "I didn't hear you coming!" Catherine explained that she had brought some fruit and put it in the kitchen and repeated her question. "I'm looking for my wetsuit. The one-piece that I used to wear for surfing. I hope it still fits – Nicky has asked me if I want to go surfing with him this weekend."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. She knew that the team had been dealing with a case of murder… a surf-school owner had been killed in his workshop, and during the investigations, Camille had encountered her ex-boyfriend Nicky with whom she had gone surfing regularly many years ago.

"Ah – here it is!" With a triumphant laugh, Camille pulled her old wetsuit out of the closet. She looked at it keenly and frowned all of a sudden. "I'll try it on after work. If it doesn't fit, I will have to wear my swimsuit, and that wouldn't really be that great. But I won't buy a new wetsuit at this stage… not when I'm not sure whether or not I'll continue…"

In response to her mother's inquiring glance, she explained "Oh, you know, I don't know if it's still my kind of activity. I may be too rusty, and considering how time consuming it is to get in shape and practice… I mean, it might not be worth it. If I'm doing okay, I can always rent a board and hit the waves, and that would be fine, but if not, it's not the end of the world. It's fun to spend time with Nicky every now and then, but I won't fall apart if we can't see each other in a while, either. I have survived years without seeing him."

Catherine asked a little hesitantly "So… you haven't taken a shine to him again?" Camille's face darkened for an instant, and there suddenly was a shadow over her eyes as she said, suddenly very earnestly "No. And I don't think I ever will. I'm just having fun… Let's see if I can also find the shoes…"

With that, she disappeared in the wardrobe again. Catherine watched her rifling through the boxes with shoes. Suddenly, there was a loud "Ha!", and an instant later, Camille emerged from the depths of the closet, holding up the matching shoes. "Now I'm all set," she explained.

"Well, go and get something to eat, or you'll be ravenous by dinner time" her mother admonished her, shaking her head. She wondered what had come over Camille to take up surfing again, after so many years… Oh well, maybe it was just happening on an impulse, and it would end up being another mayfly. Camille didn't always pursue everything she had been hooked on initially. Time would tell…

* * *

The truth was that Camille felt she had to move and be active to shake off the restlessness she was suffering from. Being active had always helped her in times of trouble, and she currently was going through a bit of a rough patch. She had seen Nicky a couple of times during their investigations, and they had talked about their adventures together when they had been surfing the waves as late teens and early twens, before Camille had left for France all those years ago. The conversations had made her wonder if she still could do it, and when she had mentioned it, Nicky had suggested she'd just give it a try… Apart from all that, she had no further interest in her former boyfriend. He was a nice enough chap, and it was fun to spend time with him, but from a romantic point of view, he clearly was not her cup of tea any more. Her taste had undergone a material change over the years!

On the matter of exercising, she had recently also intensified her running and the training at the gym so she'd generally get a little fitter – the little walking at work and two evenings at the gym suddenly hadn't been enough any more.

Also, it gave her something to do – away from the team. She sometimes met Dwayne at the gym, and once or twice, Florence – the new girl in the team who had joined the team after they had closed the last murder case – the one where the plantation owner had got killed during a séance – had tagged along during her runs. However, Florence wasn't so much into long distance running, she preferred shorter distances, but ran more often, so Camille didn't see them becoming running buddies… That was fine with her, she liked being on her own after a busy day at the station.

Florence was nice, and Camille liked her in a casual way. It was good to have a female on board for a change. It had been funny when the Commissioner had introduced Officer Cassell – she had turned out to be the girl that Dwayne had tried to invite for a drink at the bar a while ago. The look on his face had been priceless. Over the past few weeks he had worked hard to impress Florence, but she had not really taken the bait. Eventually, she had told him that she'd be happy to be friends with him, but that would be it.

Surprisingly, Dwayne had been entirely alright with that – for a moment, Camille had been worried about him and feared that his ego had suffered a blow, and she had been amazed at how gracefully he had dealt with Florence's 'rebuff'. But then it had dawned on Camille that – while he had indeed wanted to impress Florence – he had also found it extremely taxing in the long run, so he had waited for her to give him a sign that he could stop now.

Men were strange with their desire to impress women, Camille mused. Pretty much the only man who had never tried really hard to impress her – and yet had impressed her the most, very much against her will - had been Richard. He had been eager to show off his ability to solve puzzles – or rather cases – and impress everyone with his fantastic deductions and homespun science experiments, but it hadn't been only aimed at her – it had been something he had wanted literally everyone to see. No, he hadn't really done anything to impress her in particular, it had always been about wanting to impress _everyone_ in those situations. Richard had been very much an alpha male as far as his police work had been concerned – he had known that he was good at that, and he had wanted to show off his abilities… Maybe it had also been an attempt to compensate for his other shortcomings and prove that he wasn't completely useless?

Camille realised that she had started to think of Richard again and indignantly shook her head, trying to get rid of the sentiments that had come over her. No, she didn't want to think of him any more. Not now, and not ever again. She had decided it was time for a change, and she'd pursue her new goal with all her energy now…

And with that, she willed her thoughts into another direction.

Right, where had she been before she had become distracted? Oh, men trying to impress women… On that matter, Humphrey had started to take up a fitness regimen, too – and apparently he couldn't imagine that she saw right through him and knew exactly that he was trying to impress her. It had been too much of a coincidence that he would come up with something like that at this juncture. And he even wanted to try surfing on the coming weekend… Camille shook her head – that would be a disaster. He wasn't experienced, and he was fairly tall and lanky – not a good combination. Oh well, maybe he would realise that making a fool of himself wasn't such a great thing after all… But then again, he had been making a fool of himself pretty much constantly since his arrival here, it wouldn't really make much of a difference any more at this point…

She was beyond caring. She knew now that she wanted to get away from here, one way or another. She had investigated and put out her feelers, and there were a few things she was interested in. She was now in the process of getting her act together and deciding what to do. If she got a simple transfer, she wouldn't have to work the period of her notice – she could basically get up and leave. If she had to hand in her notice, she might have to stay on for another six weeks before she could finally quit. However, she still had a big chunk of her annual leave, more than four weeks – that was a combination of regular leave and compensation for working extra hours and weekend shifts. So, if a notice was required, she could leave two weeks after handing it in – give or take a day.

It was unbelievable how uplifting this knowledge was. She was glad that she had finally made a decision. She had had a conversation with her mother during which she had tentatively 'thought aloud' what it would be like if she went away again, and much to her surprise, her mother had said that if that was what she wanted, she'd have all her support – she only wanted her to be happy. That had been very reassuring!

So, now it was only a question of finding the most suitable option. She would have to start looking for open positions soon – both the British and the French forces had a site with job opportunities, so she knew where to look. It would be fun to start over somewhere else, with a clean slate, and go her own way…

* * *

As Dwayne got ready for his usual Friday evening adventures, he wondered what Camille was up to. Since their tête-à-tête some time ago, Camille had not spoken about what had been on her mind. She had seemed a bit moody for a while, but that wasn't anything unusual. At least she hadn't been so awfully gloomy any more recently – he'd noticed that with some relief. They were such a close-knit team… inevitably, it influenced all other members when one person in the team was out of balance.

She had been her old friendly, temperamental self again lately, and Dwayne hat noticed that she had taken up a stricter exercise regimen again recently. She had always been very fit, but at the moment, she was in better shape that ever before. He had seen her kickboxing at the gym, and he had been enormously impressed with her strength and endurance. Dwayne was looking forward to sitting on the beach and seeing her surfing with Nicky. She was nice to look at under all circumstances, but in a wetsuit – that would be pure joy. Camille was an appealing woman – way out of his league and way out of his sphere, anyway – and he had never been attracted to her in _that_ way – she meant trouble. She was headstrong, capricious and clever, and it was best not to tangle with her – that could result in dire straits. She was the kind of woman you could admire like a painting – from the distance. He took off his hat to every man who tried his luck with her – he had seen quite a few failing and legging it in the end…

Florence was easier – in some ways. Now that they knew where they stood with one another, all would be fine and dandy. Florence had promised to come to the beach, too, and the Chief had taken Nicky up on his offer to give him a free surfing lesson. Now, that would surely be quite a sight as well… not a pretty one, though, Dwayne was fairly sure about that. The Chief was a hopeless ditz, if he had ever seen one in his life… He was extremely accident-prone, and one had to be careful around him so one didn't get a smack in the face or a kick in the behind because the Chief hadn't paid attention. He had taken him to a few night clubs before, and the way the Chief had danced… good grief, he had a truly _unique_ style! And that was a friendly way of describing it… Amazing that he hadn't completely cleared the dance floor with his windmilling… Still, he kept asking Dwayne to take him to more places… and it was hard to say no! He was beginning to get a strange reputation for taking him along, so he'd have to wait a little until he'd let him join for another 'expedition' with him…

Hopefully, the Chief wouldn't try to impress Camille… Dwayne knew only too well that all attempts at that were futile – Camille didn't want to be impressed in that way. She had been a bit more snappy and impatient with Humphrey lately – everyone but him had noticed. He was still making mooneyes at her, and it was getting worse by the day… Well, one thing was sure, if the Chief tried to impress her with his non-existent surfing skills, he'd fail miserably. Camille wasn't interested one way or another – all she saw in Humphrey was a good friend, but beyond that – she obviously was completely immune to his awkward charm.

It had been totally different with Inspector Poole… he hadn't been dashing, open and friendly, his trademark had been a constantly grumpy face, along with a propensity for extreme accuracy, as some people called it – in Dwayne's book, it had been almost dogmatic pedantry, and Poole had not been _thorough_ in his eyes, but the world's greatest nitpicker and fusspot. However, they had been successful at solving even very difficult cases under his guidance, and usually, his meticulousness had been key here. He had been good at solving puzzles.

What a shame that he had had to leave so suddenly… It would have been interesting to see whether or not he would have fallen for Camille in the end. Dwayne had always known that these two had had a 'thing' for one another, although he couldn't understand what on earth Camille had seen in the Inspector. Maybe he had fascinated her because he was different… he was intelligent, well-read, interested in science as well as in history and literature… not really things that Dwayne considered being all that fascinating, and in his opinion not many women were into that sort of thing, but perhaps Camille had been a bit fed up with all the surferboys and athletic types she had met over the years and wanted someone with a brain for a change.

Dwayne was more than ready to admit that Richard Poole had brains – more than was healthy for him, maybe. He was a worrier, and a cranky one to boot – but who was he to judge the Inspector? Every once in a while, he had been a bit less starchy, and his more 'human' side had shown - then he had been really, really fun to be with. Not quite as much fun as the current Chief who was just as screwed up, but in a different way – but still fun.

For a moment he wondered how he might be doing now. Well, he surely was happy now that he was back in the UK – with the cooler weather, the rain and the fog.

Dwayne wrinkled his nose – how could anybody in their right mind prefer that to the Caribbean climate? But well, each to their own…

* * *

"What are you reading there, Selwyn?" Fleurette Patterson asked curiously as her husband uttered a thoughtful 'hmm' for the third time within ten minutes.

He gave a startled "What?" and then relaxed. His wife had an irritating tendency to make abrupt remarks when he was in thoughts about something, and once again, she had completely taken him off guard. He had been totally engrossed in the brochure that he had received in the mail the day before…

Oh well, she wouldn't leave him in peace, anyway, so he held up the brochure, and Fleurette's eyes glazed over when she read the title. Good grief, a brochure about internal training courses for members of the police force – how utterly boring. Why would he read anything like this?

But she pretended to be interested and asked "Are you considering taking a course somewhere, Selwyn?"

"No, no, darling… it's not about myself. It's more about – er – the officers and sergeants and all that. It's interesting to see the courses they offer – via a dual education system, as they call it. I have read something about this on the official website of the forces and was interested to find out more. I wonder if they have anything like that in the Commonwealth countries and Overseas Territories, or if it's something uniquely taking place in the UK."

"Uh-huh…" made his wife. He sighed. He loved Fleurette dearly, but sometimes he wished she could show a little more interest in his professional activities…

"Excuse me, please, darling…" He got up and yawned. "I think I'll retire to my study. I have to write a few e-mails. Let me know when it's dinnertime, alright?" She nodded and got up to kiss him. "Don't think too hard about whatever it is that bothers you, my love… I'm sure you're doing the right thing, and whatever it is, nobody could claim you haven't taken everything into account…" she said softly.

He smiled, and his previous bout of crankiness was forgotten… she knew him all too well, really!

As he sat behind his desk and pulled up the keyboard of his old-fashioned computer, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Did he really want to support Camille's wish to leave? Well, he had given Catherine his word that he'd find options for her daughter, and this sounded promising… And if everything panned out the way he envisioned it, they might all benefit from it in the end…

* * *

At the other end of Honoré, Humphrey Goodman was having a drink on his shack's veranda, feeling a little lonely and wondering if he had perhaps made a mistake by accepting that shirtless surferboy's offer to teach him the basics of surfing. He might end up in the water more often than stay on the board… but well, he'd keep trying. He had been somewhat athletic in his youth and always maintained a certain level of fitness, but surfing? He admitted to himself that he had mostly accepted the offer because he wanted to spend time with Camille, and maybe she'd see him with different eyes then. He was painfully aware of her current aloofness…

For a while, he had thought he might have a chance with her. He still wasn't ready to give up on it. She had said she needed to go out a bit more again and do things outside of work, and he knew that she had had a few casual dates – he hadn't been able to figure out in how far these had been romantic dates or just meetings with friends, though. Camille was strangely buttoned-up when it came to that department of her life. In general, she was rather open about a lot of things, but then again… he hadn't known that she had been so much into surfing as a teen, either, and if it had been such an important part of her life, she surely would have mentioned it… However, he hadn't told everyone that he had always loved sailing, either – although it had been a very important part of his life for a while. So, there was maybe nothing mysterious about him not being aware of her athletic activities back then. Why would she mention it, actually? She had just talked about it in the context of their recent case when she had explained about her friendship with Nicky.

It was amazing that she was still single and unattached. Well, what did he know? She might be single, but that didn't mean she was unattached. What if she was interested in someone, and that lucky fellow wasn't aware of it or wasn't interested in her? What if she had loved and lost and couldn't forget? No, that couldn't be the case – he would have heard about that. He was here for long enough now, surely someone would have mentioned it… or wouldn't they? And Camille wasn't the pining kind, anyway. If something was over, it was over – that was more like her…

His gaze wandered over to the swim trunks he had laid out on the chair for tomorrow. Well, at least surfing would be cooler than running. He had almost passed out when he had tried to go for a run recently… The climate really wasn't conductive for that kind of activity. He had no idea how Florence and Camille did it. Fidel had been a runner, too. Well, they were all born in this climate, that might explain it.

With a sigh, he got up, took his glass to the sink and decided to get ready for bed. It was unusual that he hadn't gone out on a Friday evening, but somehow, he hadn't been in the mood for it. And it had seemed wiser to get a snatch of sleep for a change – he might have to be alert and vigilant tomorrow…


	5. Confusion

Chapter 5 – Confusion

It was another evening at the bar, and Camille wasn't there. Humphrey was deeply disappointed when he realised that his efforts to rig himself out and look his best had been in vain. Recently, Camille had been quite indifferent towards him, for lack of a better word. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that she was avoiding him. But that couldn't be the case, she had no reason for doing that, or did she? No, she didn't… surely, she was just busy with her fitness or boxing classes and other activities. She had mentioned a couple of times that she had started to participate in mock fights at the gym, and she had also refreshed a few old contacts and met up with people she knew from school.

With a pang, he remembered how much time they had spent together during his first year here on the island – compared to that, he spent a lot more time on his own now, or with Dwayne. Florence joined them every once in a while when they were in the bar, and yes, Camille showed up from time to time, too, but overall, it seemed that everyone had run off into different directions and he was left to his own devices. Well, Fidel wasn't there any more now, anyway… he had abandoned the team a while ago. Humphrey had no idea why – well, theoretically, he knew that Fidel kind of had to grab the chance and accept the promotion on St Lucia because there were no opportunities for advancement around here for him. But still, he had been sad to see Fidel go… he had been a loyal and reliable member of the team – and a friend.

He saw Catherine coming up to him, ready to ask for his wishes. He ordered a cocktail, and when she brought it, he took the opportunity and asked her to sit down with him. It wasn't a particularly busy evening, and he knew that Catherine always was aware of what was going on around her, so if a customer needed her, she'd notice and excuse herself, promising to come back later – this had happened many times already, and so he knew he didn't have to worry about keeping her away from her work.

After some general chit-chat, Humphrey finally plucked up the courage and asked what he really wanted to know… why Camille still was single and what she might be looking for in a man. Catherine gave him a friendly smile – he didn't notice that it didn't reach her eyes and that there was a certain reservedness in her gaze.

Her answer gave him hope – apparently, Camille hadn't met any man yet who fascinated her enough to consider spending her life with him. She'd want someone who'd treat her as equal, someone who'd respect and value her, someone who'd _inspire_ her… Well, he could do all that, couldn't he? And hadn't she said that he was an inspiration when he had come out of the water after his surfing lesson a while ago, almost defeated by the waves? Hadn't she said she admired him for his courage? Well, maybe he'd just have to try harder to prove that he was worthy of her attention and affection…

Dwayne had once said that you had to sweep a woman off her feet and make her fall into your arms – well, he had never been good at that sort of thing, but he might just go ahead and give it a try…

* * *

Catherine's eyes followed the tall lanky figure when he left the bar… Poor, misled man. She had seen it in his eyes – he had not understood what she had tried to bring across… that Camille was ambitious, headstrong and willful, that she wanted someone strong, someone who'd challenge her, someone who'd pit his wits against hers, someone who'd accept her for who she was – not for whom he wanted her to be…

She couldn't possibly have mentioned that Camille had fallen so hard for someone that she found it almost impossible to get over him and that she'd maybe rather remain single than take the risk of getting disappointed (again). The standards she set were high – and there was no doubt that Humphrey Goodman didn't have a ghost of a chance of living up to them. It wasn't up to her – Catherine – to explain this – it wasn't _her_ secret. If Camille had wanted him to know, she would have told him about that part of her life – since she obviously hadn't let him in, it was clear that she felt he shouldn't know.

It was ironic – Camille had spent so much time pining for Richard while he had stayed here on Saint Marie, and he had never let her come close… and now the same thing was happening to Humphrey who was so desperate to win Camille's heart, but she just wouldn't give him a chance. However, Catherine knew that the reasons were different: Richard Poole had been afraid of love and all it implied, but he had cared a lot about Camille as a person, and Camille had genuinely cared about him as well. Humphrey Goodman was on the rebound of a failed relationship and in dire need of someone who'd pick him up and give him love – and Camille was the one he had set his heart on, without really knowing her, though. She stood for everything he wanted – lightness, fun, jauntiness… Camille, by the same token, only saw a friend in him. She wished him well, but she wasn't interested in him - romantically.

The truth was that she wasn't interested in anybody at this point, she was still trying to shake off the shadow of Richard Poole that continued to haunt her. As long as she hadn't overcome this, she wouldn't be ready for another relationship… And if she ever got to that point, Humphrey wouldn't be on her list because he bored her with his adoration, his puppy eyes and his eagerness to please her.

Catherine sighed. Humphrey was in for a bad, bad surprise…

* * *

A few weeks had passed, and Camille hadn't become any more approachable. Humphrey was at the end of his wits – he really didn't know what to do to save the situation. Their cooperation at work still was going fairly smoothly, but there was something edgy about Camille these days, she was often absent-minded and irritated. He had tried to find the courage to tell her what was in his heart, but he just couldn't do it. When he had asked her helplessly one day if she had ever been in a situation when she wanted to say something but couldn't make up her mind on how to do it, she had brushed him off and just said curtly "Well, say it, or don't say it. No point in beating around the bush."

Before he had been able to put in a word, she had started to discuss their current case – seamlessly. As if she wasn't interested in finding out what he was referring to.

Dwayne's hint that a woman wanted to be swept off her feet hadn't worked out too well, either… He had perhaps taken this advice a little _too_ literally… Humphrey closed his eyes in mortification when he remembered how he had accidentally pushed her into the harbour basin a few days ago. Honestly, he hadn't wanted to do anything but save her from the passing cyclist, but it had gone completely wrong. Needless to say, she had been fretted – well, right, she had been more than that, she had been mad as hell -, and she hadn't talked to him for a few days – yes, she had communicated within office hours, but there hadn't been any friendly chit-chat, she had avoided standing next to him, and the stern looks she had given him had been unmistakable – she hadn't wanted him to get near her any more.

What did she think of him? And would he ever find the courage to tell her how he felt about her?

* * *

If Humphrey had known how little Camille cared to spend time on wondering about his well-being and emotions, he surely would have been hurt, but he was in blissful ignorance, so although he felt insecure and a little subdued, he hadn't lost hope altogether.

The truth was that Camille had other things on her mind than wondering about her boss's emotional stability. She had received an e-mail the other day – a friend from France was coming to the island and wanted to chat with her about an 'opportunity', as he called it. That would most likely mean a job offer – one that was directed at her personally, otherwise she would have seen the opening on the French website. It felt exciting to be the object of 'headhunting', but then again – a lot depended on what the offer implied.

Was she ready to file the years as a regular police officer here on Saint Marie under 'experience' and return to the French forces? Most likely, the position would include undercover work – did she really want to go back to observing and investigating, reporting to others and not being included in the final operations? Did she want to go back to living in the shadows?

She wasn't sure. She knew that her mother wouldn't be too excited about her returning to that line of work, and she understood her point of view. She was in the second half of her 30s – how long could she continue doing undercover work? And what would come afterwards?

Well, she'd wait and see what Pierre would come up with. They'd get together on one of the next evenings. She was looking forward to seeing him again – they hadn't seen each other in a while, and it would be fun to catch up on his news.

When Humphrey had approached her some time later and asked if she wanted to go to a club with him and Dwayne, she had shaken her head and tried to look as if she was seriously sorry. The frustration had been written all over Humphrey's face when she had responded "No, sir – not tonight. I have some errands to run and want to go home right afterwards so I can have an early night."

She sighed inwardly and rolled her eyes at the memory. As much as Richard had annoyed her at times – his behaviour had been nothing, absolutely _nothing_ compared to Humphrey's. If he didn't stop looking at her with these big puppy eyes any time soon, she'd strangle him. For a moment, she pondered the differences between the variations of 'annoying' she had encountered during her time with the inspectors here at the Saint Marie police force… but before her thoughts could take the familiar route to Richard, his (sometimes endearing, sometimes upsetting) peculiarities, and all he had been (oh, and - of course - all he had _not_ been), she forced herself to redirect her thoughts at the current situation.

It had been clear that Humphrey had been disappointed with her reply, but she didn't care. She had put on a fake smile and said "Some other time, sir, okay?" He had nodded sadly and made an understanding remark. Just when he had wanted to start another thread in their conversation, the phone had gone off, and Camille had excused herself and picked up the call. It had been a relief that she had got away like that – and hopefully, Humphrey wouldn't take her up on her 'some other time' all too soon…

* * *

Catherine smiled when she saw Camille leaving the bar. If her daughter thought that she didn't know where she was going, she was badly mistaken. She had seen the look on her face, and she had also heard about the Frenchman who had checked in at the little hotel on the opposite side of the street… Her friend Simone who ran the hotel had speculated about what he was doing here – he was only staying for two nights and had checked the box 'business traveller' on the form she had given him to fill in for the tourist board. When she had asked him what sort of business he was doing, he had been rather evasive… Catherine only hoped that Camille had been more convincing during her undercover operations – Pierre Daubian definitely hadn't passed the Saint Marie grapevine test. But then… he was a man – men had great difficulties to hide _anything_ here on Saint Marie.

As soon as she had been sure that her suspicion was substantial, she had phoned Selwyn Patterson to let him know that danger was at hand – much to her surprise he hadn't been overly disturbed by the news. She had expressed her surprise at his lack of concern, and he had reassured her that he had found out about a programme for Camille that would most likely suit her very well and that would take her to new shores that were a bit safer and offered more stability than undercover work in France – yet it would offer a challenge and spur her ambition. He'd sweeten the lack of excitement with a prospect that would hopefully appeal to her…

He couldn't say any more at this point, but he hoped that Camille would consider his offer. He'd ask her to come to the Government House in a few days' time – that would give her a chance to ponder the pros and cons of the French offer, and while she'd certainly be very excited about the offer, she'd surely have figured out a couple of disadvantages by then, too - and the seed of doubt would help his cause in the end… He wouldn't panic and invite her to come the next day, no, he'd leave her to stew in her own juice for a couple of days, and that would surely do the trick.

Catherine couldn't make much sense of Selwyn's cryptic 'explanation', but she trusted him – he knew Camille quite well and was aware of the trigger words that would drive her up the wall and make her react defiantly, so there was a fair chance he'd succeed with his plan.

When she had put down her phone, she had decided to stop worrying and returned to her former occupation – folding napkins. She couldn't take any influence, anyway. It was pointless to worry if you couldn't say or do anything to change a situation. If Camille came to ask for her opinion, she'd do her best to be supportive, yet not (too) partial – but for now, all she could do was… fold napkins and look after her customers.

She sighed. Sometimes it was hard being a mother. But she shouldn't complain – her daughter had grown into a brave, strong, and independent woman, she'd go her own way – and she wouldn't go for foul compromises.

* * *

Camille's head was reeling after the evening with Pierre. It had been fun to catch up on his news – personal stuff as well as all the general things, including gossip. And it had been exciting to hear about the position that he was authorised to offer her. It sounded very, very tempting. It would include undercover work, she'd return to her roots… She had been recommended, and it was flattering to know that even after all the years here in the Caribbean, she was still remembered as a top-notch officer.

But she wasn't sure. She didn't have this feeling of just 'knowing' it would be right for her. However… did that necessarily mean it would be wrong to accept the offer? It would take her back to France, to her home away from home… She'd reconnect with old friends, she could rely on an already existing network, at least partly. She could revel in all the things she had missed here… the food, the culture, the country itself… It would mean that – although she'd take up a line of work again that she was basically familiar with - she'd do something different – she wouldn't have to look after a weird British Detecitve Inspector any more, she wouldn't have to bother about procedure and annoying silly details any more that didn't seem to make sense, anyway…

She would be free from all this, and maybe she would be able to forget some of the heartache she had experienced here on Saint Marie.

There'd be nobody around who'd ask her why she wasn't married with children yet – or _at least_ in a relationship -, nobody would remind her of Richard, nobody would expect her to get accustomed to strange English habits. She'd speak French all day long.

It sounded wonderful.

Yet, there was this nagging feeling of 'just not being sure'. And she had a week for making a decision. A week seemed long – and short at the same time… Was she being a chicken? She had wanted a change, she had looked out for a challenge… and now that she was given the chance to go for it, she was dithering… The thing was, she didn't just want a change for the sake of change, she knew that she wanted more. She wanted a future.

She would have to discuss it with Maman tomorrow… after all, she had promised to be supportive, and she knew her mother was fair and honest. She would surely try her best to help her making up her mind.

* * *

The next few days were very confusing for Camille, and in her absent-mindedness she didn't realise how her boss still was half agony, half hope about their relationship. She had not discussed Pierre's job offer with her mother rightaway – after having given it some thought, she had decided that she'd try and come up with a list of pros and cons first, and then she'd take this to her mother to talk about it.

Humphrey had no idea what was going on, but it hurt him how apathetic Camille was towards him. She had always been so kind, so caring – what had happened that she had turned away from him like that?

Not for a single moment did he realise that her behaviour was not about him – or at least not to the extent that he thought it was. He was part of the problem, not of the solution, and under this aspect, Camille had completely dismissed thinking of him and what his feelings might be.

Eventually, though, she had had a talk with her mother, and Catherine had repeated what she had said before – that she'd support Camille in any possible way, whatever her decision would be, and that – while she wasn't particularly happy about her wanting to leave and going back to undercover work – she wouldn't put obstacles in her way and she only wanted her to be happy.

It had been the things she had _not_ said that had made Camille think. She hadn't said that she couldn't do undercover work forever, she hadn't said that she was considering taking the easy way out by going back to a familiar country, relying on a familiar network and returning to a familiar workfield… She hadn't said that Camille might get bored after the initial excitement had worn off and that she might get restless again. She hadn't said that she was trying to deal with the symptoms rather than with the reason for her restlessness…

All these aspects were things that Camille was aware of. She knew that time was ticking away, and she would have to make a decision.

Then, to make matters worse, she received an e-mail from the Commissioner – or Uncle Selwyn, as she still called him in private. He asked her to come to the Government House on the next day because he had to discuss a professional matter with her. The wording sounded ominous – there was no hint what it could be about. Had he got wind of the French job offer? If yes, how would he react? She knew that she owed him her current job, and she'd hate to give him the impression she wasn't grateful and wanted to run away. At the same time, she didn't want to stay on the island – she knew that much.

She decided it was time to put her cards on the table and inform Humphrey so he'd know that she considered leaving. If nothing else, it would clear the atmosphere between them – and maybe he'd also realise that if she considered taking a step like that, she couldn't possibly be in love with him. You didn't leave the one you loved… at least not like that.

With some bitterness she thought of Richard who _had_ left her… Well, whatever she'd do, at least she wouldn't be unfair and leave Humphrey in the dark. She'd tell him about her desire to leave. And she had never led him to believe that she was in love with him, anyway…

She didn't notice that she had conveniently forgotten that Richard had never left anybody in the dark about his desire to return to the UK, either. She had also conveniently forgotten that he hadn't really had much of a choice once the assignment had been finished and a new Inspector had been lined up – and that she had never given him a reason to believe she felt more for him than friendship. Had she given him a clearer sign, things might have turned out differently – but this little detail had completely escaped her memory.

She had held her grudge for so long already that it had dulled down and become a part of her, and it rarely ever flared up acutely as it had done now…

But still - when she closed her eyes, tired of the turmoil she was going through, it was not rage, anger or pain that flooded through her…

No - it was the memory of this one perfect moment in his shack - when they had stood locked together in a tight embrace, out of this world… when she had felt his heart pounding, his hands on her back and his lips on hers… when she had begun to understand how much he _really_ meant to her…

Frustrated with herself, she opened her eyes again. It was time to make up her mind. She needed to move on.


	6. Off to New Shores

Chapter 6 – Off to New Shores

Well, that had obviously not been what Humphrey had expected, Catherine mused when she looked over to her daughter sitting at the same table with her boss, discussing the pros and cons of a move to France.

She could see that the Inspector's heart was broken – or so it seemed. He would recover. His love didn't run deep enough, Catherine was well aware of that. Camille had told him about the job offer – obviously before he could try and confess his feelings for her. That was at least what she had gathered from the conversation she had had with her daughter earlier tonight. They had both worked late, and Camille had finally wanted to come out with why she had been so distracted and absent-minded lately. Humphrey had started to speak as well… however, he had fortunately been his polite self and let her talk first… and that had saved him from the humiliation of declaring his love to someone who didn't want it.

The way Camille had described the scene had been clear – and Catherine felt honestly sorry for Humphrey. It was a good thing that he had been saved from the embarrassment that a confession of that kind would have brought! She had to admit that he was a fine chap – he didn't let it show that he was crestfallen. Of course it was silly of Camille to turn to him for an 'impartial' or 'neutral' opinion. He was anything but impartial… Hopefully, he would have the decency to let her go in the end – Selwyn had told her that it could become difficult if Humphrey didn't want to release her. Goodman was her immediate superior, and it would be regarded as arbitrary – if not despotic – if the Commissioner ignored his decision and released Camille against Humphrey's wishes. He could do it, but it wouldn't be a good idea… So, Catherine hoped that Humphrey was as good a man as his name indicated…

Camille also had told Catherine about the e-mail that she had received. She had speculated what it could mean, but Catherine had figured her daughter wouldn't be too happy to find out that she had discussed her wishes with 'Uncle Selwyn', so she had kept her mouth shut and advised her to wait and see. She knew only too well where Camille's doubts came from, but she also knew that her daughter was responsible for her own life, so she had to make her own decisions…

However, as it was… she hadn't really had the chance to look at all her options – the job offer from France had come out of the blue, and Camille hadn't taken the time to get seriously into all the other possibilities she might have… Catherine was curious herself to see what the Commissioner would come up with. She was optimistic it would be something well-rounded that Camille would find hard to turn down. But for now, she could only do as she had preached – wait and see…

* * *

Camille was somewhat agitated as she entered the Government House. Selwyn Patterson had made an official call at the station right before lunch time to inform the Inspector that he wished to speak with Sergeant Bordey – so would he be so kind to let her know that he was expecting her at the Government House as soon as possible?

That, of course, had been a thinly veiled order to send her over immediately, as Humphrey had known only too well. With a heavy heart, he had followed the Commissioner's wish and informed Camille that she had been 'summoned'. She had tried to appear cool and composed as she said "Right… I figure I'd best zoom off then… I'll have something to eat at my mother's then, so don't wait for me to join you for lunch at the beach!"

But although she thought she knew what was coming, she was nervous. When she stepped up to the information counter, Vanessa – the clerk – looked up and said cheerfully "Just go ahead, Camille – he's in his office, waiting for you!"

The Commissioner greeted her with a jovial smile – Camille could understand why Richard had always been a little uncomfortable in the Commissioner's presence. Although she had known him forever and he had always been good to her, she was well aware of his manipulative ways, and something was going on when he smiled like that. He looked like a cat that had got the cream, and that made her extremely suspicious. Or was she having a case of the 'nerves' and over-interpreted his friendly gesture? Well, she'd find out…

"Good morning, Uncle Selwyn… you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes, that's right, Camille… Thank you for coming over so quickly, I really appreciate it. Tell me, how are you doing?"

Camille groaned inwardly. So he was taking the long way… why couldn't he just say whatever he wanted to say and let her go? But then she realised how silly she was – she would have to talk to him sooner or later, and it might be easier to get it done and over with now… the sooner, the better.

So, they made conversation for about 10 minutes… Camille learnt that Selwyn Patterson had a bad back and got an appointment with a new massage therapist, and she also found out that his wife had taken up crocheting recently after she had mostly focused on cross stitching for years and years… "Not that I'd know much about all that, as you can imagine, but it's quite fascinating to see what she produces with just one hook and a ball of yarn…" He paused for a moment and then added thoughtfully "Although I hope she will turn to something else before cluttering up our entire house with lace doilies in all sizes, shapes and colours…"

Camille couldn't help but laugh. The Commissioner looked at her with a sly smile and said "Well, I'm sure you know I haven't asked you to come here to talk about handicrafts with you. That's neither my nor your speciality, so let's turn to something we both know more about… police work. I know very well that your current position is a dead end, and I have been thinking of ways to change this situation. I know you are ambitious, and I know that you can do much more than carry a notepad and ask suspects or witnesses about their alibis. You have potential, and you need a new challenge, I'd say. While I don't want you to be stuck, I don't want to lose you forever, either. Given all that, I have looked around a bit, gathered information and pulled a few strings, and I would like to make you an offer - or a suggestion, if you prefer – now."

* * *

An hour later, a completely baffled Camille left the Government House. She was glad that she had already turned down Humphrey's suggestion to have lunch on the beach - she really couldn't do that now. She had to talk to her mother first. So she directed her steps in direction of the bar, trying to understand what had just happened.

Catherine was already waiting for her – although she tried not to let it show. Selwyn Patterson had given her a call to inform her that he had seen Camille – who was on her way to La Kaz now -, and he had sounded very optimistic. He had said "I think she has taken the bait I have thrown her way. She will explain what I suggested, and I hope you will support her to accept the offer. She will go away from here, but with a little luck, she might return in a year or two. I don't think she will stay away forever. She will sort out whatever it is that she has on her mind – I don't know what it is, and it's none of my business, but she seemed to feel liberated when I outlined my idea and she realised I suggested she'd leave for a while – and once she has reached her goal – and maybe also has made peace with herself and the issues that are bugging her! - she will come back. I don't have a definite plan for what will happen afterwards as there are factors involved that are beyond my control, but I have a feeling that things will work out somehow – and if not, I'll find a way to make it happen for her. I do have contacts, and some of them still owe me something, so I'm optimistic that I can make her a good offer when the time comes."

Naturally, Catherine was anxious to find out what the mysterious suggestion or offer or whatever it was that the Commissioner had made to Camille would include, but she knew it wouldn't do to rush Camille – she had to tell her at her own pace. So, she greeted her daughter, let her take a seat and brought her lunch – a delicious plate of seafood, white bread and a large glass of cold sparkling water, mixed with white wine. Then she pulled up a chair and waited until Camille had eaten…

Camille was still in a bit of a daze, but she pulled herself together and began to explain what the Commissioner had come up with. He had explained that he wanted her to take her Inspectors' Exams, but he was well aware of all the distraction she'd have over here – she'd find it extremely hard to study under the circumstances given. He had told her that the fact that she hadn't taken the regular route to get into the British forces might turn out as a bit of an issue in case she was ever going to throw her hat into the ring for a promotion, and that he had noticed that she had certain problems with a few rules, procedures and ways of handling things because she had a French background.

So, he had educated himself on programmes that would enable her to get a better basis and help her to get prepared for the exams. There were programmes in the UK for established officers who wanted to brush up on their knowledge – they included different modules, and if you finished them successfully, you'd get credits. These would count for the Inspectors' Exams. Along with the theoretical studies, you had to do internships in various police stations and departments, and those segments were also credited with a point system. Everything would count towards the finals. He had explained that if she wanted to take the exams, she would have to sit them, anyway, but with a preparation course like the one he was suggesting, she might have better results, and she would most likely also find it easier to do the studies in a semi-academic environment than sitting down on her own and studying for the exams.

"He said he's sure I could do it, but it might take me forever because I'd have to work full time, and he had seen how it had taken a toll on Fidel – and his family - when he sat for his Sergeants' Exams," she explained to her mother. "Since I'm single and have no family – other than you – he figures it's no problem for me to go to the UK for a year or two to get all the required modules finished, do the necessary internships and sit for the exams. Then I'll be qualified to become DI, and I can apply for free positions. He said there's no guarantee I can return to Saint Marie, but he pointed out that most independent Caribbean islands acknowledge the British education – just think of Fidel's move to St. Lucia! – but are a little suspicious about the French system. He knows of at least five places around here – including Dominica - that will need a DI within the next three years or so, so there's a good chance I could come back to the Caribbean. I can't believe I haven't even thought of this option! But then, I haven't had the chance to investigate much lately as I've been so busy."

She paused, and Catherine asked "And the money?"

Camille sat back and said "That would be less than now, and London is expensive. I would get a part time salary, plus some extra compensation, and all in all, it would be enough – though not really generous. But I have savings, and I'm sure I could get by. Uncle Selwyn also pointed out that I could apply for a scholarship of some kind because I'm coming from an Overseas Territory. They have grants for cases like that."

Catherine arched her eyebrows and said "So, what do you think? Doesn't that sound good?"

Camille nodded and said "And it would be something completely, entirely, totally different. Somehow, I think that's better than going back to France. It would be fun to return to Paris, but it would be a _return_ to something I know, not something new - and in a way, it seems like I'd be taking the easy way out, if you know what I mean."

Catherine passed her an understanding glance and responded "You've got a point there. It wouldn't have been such a challenge in the long run, and it wouldn't bring the – er – satisfaction you wish for." She had been tempted to say 'distraction', but then had wisely chosen a different word.

For a few moments the two women sat in silence, then Camille sighed and said "I'm glad he called me. I would have accepted the other offer, just to get away and start over somewhere else, but it wouldn't have been right. And in the long run, staying in the British system might really give me more options – with the French system I'd be stuck with the motherland, or with Guadeloupe, Martinique and Réunion at best. There's St. Pierre and Miquelon, but with all due respect, I can't see myself serving there! It's surely lovely there in the summer, but overall, I'd find it too cold and lonely!"

Catherine smiled. Then she took her daughter's hand and said reassuringly "Go for it, Camille!" In her mind, she added "And hopefully you'll find closure – one way or another - when you're in the UK and stumble across a certain someone…"

But she didn't dare to speak aloud. She was completely aware of Camille's efforts to try and push that particular part of her life to the side – ironically, it surely played a role in her decision to go to the UK… It was pointless to say anything about it at the moment, though, as Catherine knew only too well – maybe she could bring it up in a later conversation…

That night, after she had closed down the bar and returned home again, she quietly took out her laptop and sent another e-mail across the miles, saying among other things "She's coming to the UK. Details will follow. I think we should give them some time – Camille will have to get adjusted to life in the UK first, and she might not want to see him right away, anyway. But I have the feeling that she will want to look for him eventually. If she hasn't made up her mind by spring, we can take action and arrange for them to meet somehow so they'll have to face each other."

* * *

Two weeks later, Camille finally found herself on the ferry to Guadeloupe. She'd fly out to France later today – she had taken her remaining five weeks of leave and would spend a holiday over there at first before moving to London and trying to find her feet there before the course started in early September. Her application had been successful, and she had even been granted an allowance so she'd have a little more money than she had initially counted on. She had e-mailed her friend Isabelle in Paris who had contacts in London and asked her for advice regarding accommodation, and Isabelle had suggested she'd go over to the UK with her and look at flats. Housing was expensive in London, and she might have to stay in a dorm-like guest-house for a month or two. However, Isabelle had been optimistic that they'd find a place for her – and so she didn't worry about that too much. She'd manage somehow.

She remembered Uncle Selwyn's words when she had told him about her decision… He had looked at her, a pleased smile on his face, and said in his own solemn way "I'm very proud of you, Camille. I had hoped you'd realise that this is a very promising route for you to take, and you haven't disappointed me. You'll be fine, and I know you will create a new network, succeed in the course and pass your exams with flying colours – it will open all sorts of new doors for you, and having a few contacts in the UK won't hurt, either. Just don't forget this one thing – this is your home, and there's always a place for you here."

He had repeated that last part once more when he had said goodbye to her at the harbour, and although the look on his face had been wistful, she knew that he was genuinely happy for her. And of course he hoped she'd be back eventually…

Her thoughts wandered to the other team members… Florence who had promised to look after Humphrey, Dwayne who had hugged her and wished her the best of luck, and, of course, Humphrey who had showed up late and nearly fallen into the water when he had said goodbye to her and given her a farewell gift. They both had got carried away a little – but the past weeks had been emotional, and they both had needed an outlet, apparently. She knew that it might have looked a little over-the-top how they had kissed, but she didn't regret it, although she knew that their respective feelings had been very different.

And while it might have looked like a 'real' kiss to many people, she knew it wasn't anything like that. Not a kiss of love. Not the kind of kiss she and Richard had shared when he had left many moons ago. For a moment, she closed her eyes and allowed the memory to wash over her… the bliss she had felt, the warmth of his mouth, the feeling of his arms around her. This certainly hadn't been the only kiss in her life, but it definitely stood out. What else could have happened if they hadn't wasted so much precious time, if they had been more honest and open about their feelings when there still had been a way to ward off the transfer?

In the next moment, she chided herself for letting her emotions take over. She had other things to do now than dwell on the past. She was leaving Saint Marie to build her future, after all… and he hadn't cared about her enough, anyway – otherwise, he would have kept in touch…

She hoped that Humphrey wouldn't pine for her for an extended stretch of time – he deserved to be happy, but she wasn't the right woman for him, and instinctively, he knew that now… although he didn't want to admit it. That was why he had almost clung to her so desperately, she reckoned… he had felt that things were changing, and he wanted to hold on to the past…

But she was realistic about his feelings. In hindsight, the memories of the time they had spent together would be gilded, anyway – he'd forget her snappy replies, her absent-mindedness, her frustrated eye-rolling… - and only the fun memories would survive. And with time, even those would get paler and paler, and he'd forget why she had ever been so important to him. He needed constant attention – and he'd find someone else to cater for his needs.

She had been so upset with him when she had realised that he had been trying to hold her back… She could have strangled him for his selfishness! Until two nights ago, she hadn't been sure whether or not he'd let her leave. Of course, the Commissioner could override Humphrey's wishes, but he knew that wouldn't look good and could cause a racket, so he had been keen on finding a mutual agreement. Eventually, Humphrey had relented and signed the necessary papers. Obviously he had realised that he'd lose her either way – if he signed the papers, she'd be gone rightaway, and if he didn't sign them papers, she'd find out, never forgive him, and apply for a transfer eventually. No matter what he did or didn't do, she wouldn't stay – she had set her heart on leaving, and he had no choice but let her go.

By now, she had calmed down again, but when he had confessed that he had initially not wanted to sign the papers, she had been hopping mad. How dare he… She realised quickly, though, that it was pointless – he was part of the past now, anyway, and she had got what she had wanted… that was all that counted. This insight had pacified her, and so she had been in a friendlier mood again this morning. Her feelings when they had kissed hadn't been instigated by longing, remorse or loving affection – her main emotion had been relief and the unrestrained joy of knowing that she'd close this chapter and enter a new stage of life. This was what she had wanted, and this was what she'd do! For her, this kiss had symbolised the finalisation of this particular stage of life – she was ready to let go and leave it behind.

She looked at the little compass ring on her finger that she had found in the box that he had given her. Of course, she knew what he was trying to say with this… that the ring hopefully would bring her back to him. Well, she'd just redesignate the meaning – she looked at it and hoped that it would show her the right way when it was time to think about the future again. As Uncle Selwyn had said – she'd always have a place on Saint Marie… but she wasn't sure yet if she wanted to occupy it. She'd see!

With that, she turned around to look out on the water in front of her. Like a silvery blanket, it stretched out ahead of her… It was almost disturbingly quiet, only a few waves rippled the surface. Experience told her that things could change quickly...

She knew, it wouldn't always be plain sailing, but she'd get through. She was strong, she could do it. Her sails were set, and she'd weather any storm – she'd reach her harbour in the end.


End file.
